


Home

by hexburn (thestormapproaches)



Category: League of Legends RPF
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Cat Ears, Cat/Human Hybrids, Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Pain, Scents & Smells, Sleepy Cuddles, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-27
Updated: 2020-08-27
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:01:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26147602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thestormapproaches/pseuds/hexburn
Summary: Nick's heat has never been kind to him. This time, it just so happens to be much, much worse.But at least Tim is there to help him through the pain.
Relationships: Nick "LS" De Cesare/Tim "Nemesis" Lipovšek
Comments: 9
Kudos: 32





	Home

Why is his heat so gross?

It’s all Nick can think about on the plane ride from Korea to Europe, all he can think about as sights and smells create an ache behind his eyes, all he can think about as his softest clothing scrapes against his skin like screeching-grinding metal. At least he took his suppressants beforehand, so his scent is gone.

Surely the hungry eyes of alphas on his body are just his own misinterpretations.

Still, he’s so relieved to finally be home- well, not home, but his friend’s home. Tim.

Tim’s home.

#  Day 0.

He arrives in the late Berlin afternoon. The sun warms his ears and aggravates his eyes - Nick really just wants to sleep right now, especially with the suppressants finally wearing off, letting his heat soak into the edges of his consciousness like the welcomingness of Tim’s flat as he opens the door. He breathes deep. The air is sweetly-scented with the slightest hint of candle smoke. It’s just enough to be noticeable to an omega in heat, but not overwhelming at all. Nick sighs and takes another deep breath, swishing his yellow tail with its white patches happily as a wave of Tim’s cinnamon-clove heat-pheromones wash through his senses.

He flicks his white-tipped ears angrily when he scents the slightest trace of wet-dog alpha pheromones.

But in a matter of moments, Tim is in front of him and hugging him and all Nick’s annoyance drains away amidst a whirl of fuzzy grey-brown tabby ears and tail, soft fur against his cheek, warm grey eyes smiling at him. “You’re finally here!”

“Yeah,” Nick says with a shy grin. “Finally here.”

They don’t really need words from there on out, at least for the night. Tim pulls Nick by the wrist into his bedroom, then into his bed, dropping Nick’s small carry-on bag at the bedside. Then, they settle in for their heats.

This tradition between them, of sharing heats together for the natural pain-relief of touch, sympathy and a fellow omega’s scent, has been going on long enough for Nick to rack up a formidable number of Frequent-Flyer rewards and for Tim to accumulate a collection of fleece blankets all hand-picked and well-suited to Nick’s sensitive skin during his heat. Nick wouldn't admit it just yet, but he loves how gentle Tim is. Not once has Nick ever worried about coming to Tim with his heat; he knows the fellow omega won't mind at all and actually seems rather happy to spend heat with him. Their arrangement is a little odd, but who cares? Nick loves it.

Gratefully, Nick tugs off his well-worn yet somehow still terribly scratchy shirt and cuddles up to dreamy fleece and Tim’s warmth. He doesn’t stop to notice that the blanket, his favourite, just so happens to match the colour of Tim’s ears. He also doesn’t stop to notice how Tim’s Fnatic shirt doesn’t scratch his skin at all. He’s simply too busy falling asleep in the last bit of comfort he’ll get before his heat fully hits.

And then he wakes up-

Well, he sort of does.

#  Day 1.

It happens bit by bit, his waking at the early gamer hour of 8 in the morning or so. Slowly, the pain overwhelms the darkness of his sleep. Nick isn’t sure how long it takes for the pain to wake him up - he’s never quite sure - but he does know the pain isn’t sudden and neither is clutching his arms around his stomach or writhing his tail in agony. Nor are Tim’s arms around him a new sensation.

“Hurts already?”

Nick’s only response is a mewling groan. It hurts so fucking bad, he can’t even begin to express it.

“Ah, come here.” Tim sleepily tugs Nick closer, petting his ears and tucking Nick’s face into the crook of his neck, the source of the comforting, warm-spice scent. One, two, three, four deep lungfuls and Nick’s pain is dulled at least enough to drift into a hazy sleep.

“Th’nks.”

“Shuddup and sleep.”

Tim chuckles, and Nick smiles.

He wakes up again a few hours later, as the clock tells him, though he doesn’t wake up with help from an alarm. Rather, he’s cold. Unpleasantly so.

Grumbling to himself, Nick tugs the blanket’s edges closer to him. It had already been tucked around his sleeping form, but he’s still cold. After a moment of thought, he snags another blanket out of the nest formed on the bed and wraps himself up in it as well, then hops off the bed, wincing at the ache in his stomach and seeking Tim. It’s much too cold to be alone in the flat.

“Oh, you’re up!” Tim chirps from the kitchenette with an uncharacteristically bright smile on his face.

Nick just raises an eyebrow. “What’s in the bag,” he mutters monotonously, pointing to the plastic shopping bag in Tim’s hands.

“Oskar and Jus dropped off snacks,” Tim says. That damn smile lingers.

Internally, Nick hisses at the thought of Oskar and Jus’s scents in  _ his _ heat-den. Those disgusting alpha and beta pheromones contaminating  _ his _ nest! Vile.

Ugh, he can practically see them radiating from Tim’s hands. So gross. 

“Wash your hands before you even touch my fucking nest,” Nick glowers.

“It’s my nest, too, bitch.” But Tim smiles even a bit more. He’s considerate enough to not touch Nick with his hands as he walks by to set their extra supplies in the bedroom, and instead, they exchange quick shoulder-bumps and nuzzles and twine their tails together briefly.

Comforting and cuddling each other through the pain of heat takes up most of their afternoon. Everything melds into a blurred canvas of warm arms and soft blankets and gentle scritches to his ears and sugar-and-spice scents and quiet chatter and little snuggly hugs on top of it all. At some point, Tim whimpers in the throes of a particularly rough cramp in his stomach, so Nick massages his hips for a bit, ignoring his own aches to help the younger omega. Tim thanks him with plenty of purrs and ear-scritches.

Everything is about the quiet, peaceful nothingness, though, as they snuggle for warmth and comfort from the foreboding sense of doom that always nags at their subconscious minds at the start of their heats. The nest’s soft blanket walls cradle them tightly, soothing them from all sides. Nick’s tail even begins to curl from side to side happily. It’s warm and soft and cosy in this nest, with Tim, and Nick wouldn’t have his heat any other way. 

He’s so drowsy and comfortable that he doesn’t really notice when Tim becomes unusually quiet, almost going limp in his arms. Nick just massages Tim’s sides again, hoping that will help whatever is wrong go away.

Somewhere around what he would guess to be supper-time, Nick’s hunger makes itself known and drags him from his lull state. He shivers and makes a quiet noise of discomfort, grumpily sitting up and looking around for something decent to eat. Everything else about his heat already hurts like a bitch. Might as well not add hunger to the list.

When he tries to stand up, though, Tim whines and hugs his waist.

“Where’s food?” Nick asks, ruffling Tim’s hair to soothe his fears of abandonment - it’s a common heat symptom that even Nick, though he would hate himself for admitting it, experiences, so he does his best to mitigate Tim’s almost silent whimpers.

Moving like a zombie, Tim points to a case of water bottles in a corner of the room, with a bag of fruits atop it. 

“Yeah, where’s like, chocolate?” Nick mutters, uninterested in apples during such a time of need. “Or salmon, that sounds pretty good too.” He licks his lips at the thought of some good fish right about now, then hops out of the bed with one arm still comforting his heat-cramps in search of food.

“‘s over there, too…” Tim replies, listlessly. Surely Tim is fine? Ah, but his eyes waver and he shivers and now there must be something wrong.

With a look of alarm, Nick gently traces the tip of his tail over Tim’s shoulder. “Are you alright? You seem pretty out of it…”

Tim sets down his shaking hands and weakly nods, fooling no one. Obviously something is wrong.

“Bullshit,” Nick says, rolling his eyes until he sees how badly Tim is trembling, even in the warm bedroom and under two soft blankets. Worried, he strokes Tim’s ears. “Are you cold?” he asks.

“N-no… I think I might be…”

_ Shit. It’s like last heat. _

Last heat, Tim had barely eaten for the days leading up to the most taxing period of his life on his poor omega body. Idiot. Everyone knows the natural increase in appetite before one’s heat is for good reason, yet Tim still hadn’t listened to his body and instead fought against it, according to what he had told Nick. After refusing to eat, Tim had nearly fainted in Nick’s arms.

“When was the last time you ate?” With a no-nonsense attitude, Nick rolls Tim onto his back, lying flat, for better massaging access in case the mid-laner suffers tummy-aches for his stupidity.

“Yesterday… dinner?” Tim muses aloud. “Maybe breakfast actually… no, wait, I… T-two days…?”

Nick immediately digs through the bag of groceries in search of simple snacks with quick results. “Why didn’t you say something?!” he chides angrily, tail lashing as he resurfaces from his hunt with a package of smoked salmon and an applesauce packet.

The only response Nick gets is a groan. Please, don’t let this be something serious… 

“Drink this,” Nick grumbles, opening the packet and holding it to Tim’s lips so he can suck the applesauce out of the pouch.

Still trembling, Tim weakly sips from the packet. Nick has to help him move his arms and hands into a position where he can grip the packet’s edges with a delicate touch.

“Idiot,” Nick scoffs as he breaks the salmon into manageable pieces and puts them in a bowl after popping one in his mouth. He quickly grabs three bananas next and begins peeling them and breaking them into chunks in another bowl. “Put your head on my lap,” he commands. 

Tim finishes his applesauce and tries to obey, still shaking from low blood sugar. But he doesn’t have the strength, yet, to move himself. Nick watches in grotesque amusement as Tim can only feebly hold up a hand, asking for help. Of course Nick helps him - not just because it’s someone in distress but because it’s Tim. He wraps his arms around Tim’s torso and gently drags him up the bed, laying Tim’s head on his lap. Lovingly, Nick pets Tim’s hair while Tim hugs Nick’s legs for dear life. Only now, as he lays shivering on the bed, half-curled up in pain and desperate to be closer to Nick’s warmth, does he seem to realise the gravity of what he had nearly done to himself. He avoids eye-contact while Nick gently drapes a blanket over him.

Nick himself is still aching inside. It feels like something tiny, with equally tiny claws, trying to dig its way out of him, not caring what it tears through in the process. He’s… he’s used to it, though, with six more years’ worth of heats than Tim has had. It would be best to help the fragile little mid-laner first. “You’re so stupid,” Nick grumbles, somewhere between motherly and angry. “How could you let this happen?” He eats a piece of banana as they wait for the sugars in the applesauce to reboot Tim’s system before he eats more.

Instead of retorting with an equally sharp tongue, the way Nick had subconsciously expected, Tim just sighs and shivers a bit more. “ ‘m sorry,” he murmurs. 

Really, Nick should have seen that coming, since Tim isn’t quite so standoffish as he is. The apology is still somewhat surprising though, and Nick’s expression softens. “Just… don’t do it again, okay? It’s scary for everyone involved.”

“Wasn’t trying to,” Tim says, barely audible through Nick’s thigh, which tickles a bit as Tim’s lips move against the fabric, “it j’st… happened. I forgot I was technic’lly in heat ‘cause you weren’t here…”

Oh. Right. “Yeah…” Nick sighs. “I guess that kinda threw both of us off.”

“...both of us?” Tim wonders. Nick knows the deeper question he’s asking.

He clears his throat a few times - he’d hoped to not have to reveal what he had done out of desperation until the actual effects were imminent. “I, um, took suppressants before the flight here,” he confesses. He’s fully aware of what they do to him, how they make his tail and ears and fingers throb and prolong his heat horribly and intensify his pain and make him nauseous, but… he couldn’t stand not taking them. He couldn’t stand facing down alphas and betas at the airport while reeking of omega pheromones.

It’s- It’s weak, isn’t it? To be an omega. Especially in heat. Who knows what might happen to him - no, what others might do to him? Maybe he’s just insecure, but the suppressants helped in the moment. Now, though, a dark flash of anger streaks across Tim’s face. “And you think you have the right to lecture  _ me _ about taking care of myself?” he mutters.

Before Nick argues back and they start a taxing conversation, Tim cuts him off with a sleepy hum.

“We’ll talk when I have more energy, okay?”

“Okay.”

They lie there for a few minutes more while the last of Tim’s hypoglycaemic jitters fade, Nick’s fingertips tracing through Tim’s fluffy hair and over his soft tabby ears with a gentleness anyone but Tim would find unusual. He caresses Tim’s cheek at one point. The midlaner looks back up at him with doe-like eyes, wide and deep and grateful and trusting, blending the best of stormy grey skies and cuddly grey blankets. They send a rush of warmth through Nick’s gut - not the kind of sex-crazed fire their heats are named for, but a sweet, bubbly kind of warmth instead. It’s a gentle hot spring of affection and happiness, not an acid geyser. Nick looks back at him just as kindly and warmly. As Tim recovers, he starts to purr. Nick’s own purrs answer him.

At long last, Tim stops shaking entirely and regains his strength, or at least enough that he can reposition himself, legs curled around Nick’s hips with his head on Nick’s thighs. Nick smiles at him, the two of them tangled in an unending loop of limbs and skin and cat fur.

“ ‘m better now,” Tim says, smiling back, though he still looks exhausted.

“Good.” For a moment, Nick lets himself gaze happily into Tim’s eyes, glad to have taken care of his younger, cuter, obviously more fragile friend. “Eat these, now,” he says with only a slightly devilish grin, pressing a piece of banana against Tim’s lips. Tim mutters something about not liking bananas, but, with a little encouragement from Nick’s glare, eats a handful of pieces before actually protesting.

“Gimme salmon,” Tim demands.

“Finish your two bananas,” Nick answers, munching on a piece of his own. He’ll eat about one banana of the three whose pieces lay in the bowl, so that Tim gets more food to replenish what he’d lost over the last two days.

Tim pouts and keeps his lips sealed when Nick holds the next piece of banana against them. “Don’t like bananas!”

Nick just rolls his eyes. “Eat five more banana pieces and I’ll give you a piece of salmon.” As expected, Tim’s eyes light up. He’s still pouting, but he resigns himself to eating the fruit, with the promise of a reward. Once he’s eaten the bananas, he opens his mouth with a half-pleading, half-disgruntled glare. Nick chuckles and feeds him a piece of salmon, giggling more as Tim hums delightedly and snuggles closer, pressing his face into Nick’s tummy. “You’re so easy to bribe,” Nick teases.

“Just wait until I have enough energy to fight you,” Tim says, voice lilting like he’s half-asleep or drunk on the taste of salmon or sleepy from Nick’s touch or all three. Nick smiles softly and pets him more, then feeds him the last of the banana before letting him have more salmon.

“Like you could fight anything, ever,” Nick snorts. “Stick-arms.”

“Fuck you, too,” Tim retorts through a mouthful of half-chewed salmon. He snuggles closer to Nick’s gentle pets, regardless, and hums happily as Nick cradles him in warm arms and blankets. With that, the last piece of salmon lands on Tim’s lips. He accidentally licks Nick’s hand - Nick lets out a tiny shriek, to which Tim responds by sticking his tongue out. Nick flicks him and lays back with Tim’s head still on his tummy, curling the two of them together like amorous cats.

Maybe that’s what they are…

Anyway, Nick sets the bowls aside and falls asleep with Tim in his arms and him in Tim’s.

Somewhere in his shared nap, a series of quiet noises disrupt Nick’s sleep. He can’t place them, at first, but they give him a quiet sense of fear and a dreadful protectiveness, an urge to put himself between someone and the world that threatens them.

His eyelids creak open, disgruntled. “Hey. Support,” he mutters. Tim’s head is resting on his knees, in the same way that Nick’s head is on Tim’s thighs. Like a grumpy cat - which Nick supposes he could be considered - he gives Tim’s cheek a rough pat.

“Mmmrp?” Blearily, Tim’s eyes open and he adjusts himself on Nick’s legs, trying to get more comfortable while also noticeably clamping his arms around his stomach.

“Quit growling,” Nick says with a blend of gruffness and adoration. He can’t help it. What even was that noise that Tim just made? Whatever it was, it was cute as hell.

“Nngh… sorry. Hurts a bit.”

“Come cuddle me face-to-face. I don’t know why we’re 69-ing anyway.”

“Why do I have to move?”

“Ugh, fine. Shut up and scoot over.”

Grumbling, they manage to rearrange themselves into a more comfortable position to laze the day away and sleep well through the night, snuggled together for some sort of salvation from the heat-hell to come.

Hopefully they’ll be ready for tomorrow.

#  Day 2.

This one is perhaps the hardest - it’s the day when hormones rule their heats.

Nick never remembers much about this day. He doesn't know who he is when he's crazy on heat-induced horniness, doesn't know what he begs for or what is done to him. That's part of the reason he goes to Tim with his heats. Nick doesn't trust anyone else to keep him safe and respect his limits even when he doesn't. 

Certainly not an alpha. Not a beta either, really.

It’s not that alphas can’t help their omegas through heat - some of them can, and they do it really well. Or so Nick has heard. He hasn’t had the best times with them. In his experience, alphas are great for the before-heat pains; they’re biologically driven to protect omegas during that time, anyway, and will obey their omega’s every wish. Their ruts, though, those are the problem, particularly for Nick. Dealing with heat is hard enough; it’s even worse (in Nick’s eyes, at least) when his partner gets insanely horny while his abdomen is cramping like a bitch. The fact that he has a heat disorder where he loses control of himself during the sexual part of heat also doesn’t help. Safe to say, he lost trust in having an alpha during his heat after one fateful incident, in which he woke up with bruises and bites all over his body despite specifically telling his boyfriend at the time to not leave any marks. The excuse was that Nick had begged for it - an excuse which turned that boyfriend into the last alpha ex. It had taken a month for the bruises and scars to fade away.

Isn’t Nick’s body just great? Not only do his stupid hormones and brain chemicals give him anxiety and depression, but also horrible heat-pains and heat-madness. What a way to live.

In terms of designations, betas can help, too, as Nick’s last girlfriend proved a while ago, but she didn’t really understand Nick’s pain, either. Not the way Tim does. There’s just something different about spending heat with Tim. Maybe omegas are special, or maybe Nick has changed, or maybe Tim is special?

Despite all that Nick doesn't know, he does find one memory of the day. He doesn't know how to feel about it - embarrassed, probably - and yet it somehow warms his heart through the embarrassment of being so needy.

He remembers feeling painfully, terribly, achingly empty, begging for something to fill the void and satiate the gaping maw in his belly. He remembers being so desperate that he cried, though he would rather forget that part. And he remembers Tim filling his needs despite being painfully overwhelmed with his own heat.

Through the haze, Nick remembers how Tim had progressed beyond the slick-soaked stage of his heat by the afternoon, and how he, because of the damned suppressants he’d taken for the plane ride, was doomed to feel the effects of heat for twice as long. He remembers Tim looking coherent, if still wincing at the ache, in stark contrast to Nick’s own feverish begging and crying.

Nick just so happens to remember begging for not their double-ended dildo but for Tim inside of him. How embarrassing! He remembers digging his nails into Tim's back so hard that he's afraid, now, to look at what damage he might have wrought, and he wishes he'd had the presence of mind to not be so harsh.

But he also remembers Tim smiling at him through heat’s haze and obeying his requests and kissing his wet cheeks. He remembers Tim holding him tenderly, their bodies pressed tightly together, Tim’s hands roaming his body and granting it gentle touches wherever they went. He remembers Tim breathing his scent and pouring out omega pheromones to keep him calm.

He remembers Tim feeding him some juice after this stage of his heat had passed. Then, he remembers nothing but a warm embrace and sleep.

Now, at the tender hour of 4 in the morning, Nick has awoken. It’s quiet. Everything is still; a world full of peace surrounds him, only disturbed by Tim’s soft snuffling as he sleeps. They’re facing each other, both shirtless and probably pantsless, hugging tightly, and Nick finds his hands drawn to Tim’s soft ears. He pets them delicately, trying not to wake Tim up. The reason Nick had awoken was his hunger, but that doesn’t matter to him any more, not when Tim looks so content. He doesn’t want to disrupt the grey tabby hybrid’s sleep.

When his hunger snarls at him again, though, Nick carefully loosens Tim’s grip on him and sits up against the headboard of the bed, keeping Tim’s arms wrapped around his waist and Tim’s face tucked in the crook of his hip. He quietly pokes through the bag of goodies delivered by Selfmade and Crownie. It smells a bit like the alpha dog and the beta tomcat, making Nick’s nose wrinkle, but Nick finds a suitable-looking sandwich with what looks like ham and cheese. Without the wrapping, Nick can't even tell an alpha touched it. He digs in eagerly.

As he eats quickly, he can't help but admire Tim's sleeping beauty. Tim looks so cute when he's asleep, soft and peaceful with fluttering eyelashes and periodically twitching ears and his tail half-circled around Nick's. Gently, Nick pets Tim's ears and runs his fingers through Tim's fluffy hair while Tim nuzzles closer to him and Nick finishes his sandwich.

Unsurprisingly, after such a frenetic day, Nick is still hungry, so he snags another sandwich from the bag - this one with tuna, lettuce and tomato. Perfection. Happily, he eats, enjoying the fish and Tim’s warmth still around his waist. Once he’s done with the sandwich and has finished off a bottle of water, Nick bundles up the rubbish and snuggles back down into their bed, positioning Tim’s arms around his waist, hugging Tim tight and nuzzling against Tim’s cheek.

Tim does the same. “Quit moving,” he sleepily murmurs, cuddling Nick with an iron grip.

Nick smiles and complies, falling asleep in minutes.

#  Day 3.

When Nick wakes up, he is sadly alone again. Do they have another visit from that dreadful alpha and beta? If there’s any scent but Nick's and Tim's in Tim’s apartment, in their home, infecting their nest, Nick will probably get violent. But he’ll deal with that bridge when he gets to it.

“Who was that?” Nick grumbles. Having made his way to the kitchen, bundled up in two fuzzy blankets, he can’t help but note how Tim returns from the door with a paper bag and a grin.

“Just Jus. Oskar didn’t wanna risk a rut. Here, they got you something!” he chirps, holding out a takeout box.

Nick raises a sceptical eyebrow and barely suppresses the urge to hiss - he hates that alpha so, so much - but accepts the paltry gift.

“You don’t have to look at it like it’s poisoned,” Tim teases, “I asked them to get us some food and I thought you’d like some chicken noodle soup. Oh, and a pastry, too.”

Quietly, Nick hmmphs, but accepts the flaky, chocolate-filled pastry as well.

“Wanna eat at the table or in the nest?”

It’s the third day of Nick’s heat. Normally, he would prefer eating at the table every single time, no matter what, during his third and often final day of the lingering heat-traces. But this heat is painfully prolonged, thanks to the suppressants, and Nick wavers. The table is dignified and homey and adorably domestic. The nest is lazy and comfy. It would be a terrible sign of weakness to not eat at the table - it’s not even that hard, why is he so worried about it? Somehow, though, Nick finds himself drawn to his nest, still, desperately seeking infinite caresses and cuddles and care from his fellow omega, the kind of affection that the nest promises to give him. He hates being desperate. What’s wrong with him?

A gentle touch to his elbow draws him back to Earth and the sudden realisation that  _ the apartment is cold, _ especially without a shirt on. Tiny, freezing swirls of air brush against his bare legs and arms and chest, even under the blanket. He must have forgotten to redress after yesterday’s heat-frenzy. “Nick?” Tim asks gently, breaking his stupor.

“N-nest,” Nick stammers. “Sorry.” He doesn’t know what’s happening, just that the nest is warm and gentle and most importantly  _ safe _ from alphas who might hurt him or blame him for their imminent rut. Safe… He tugs the blankets tighter around his shoulders.

“It’s okay,” Tim murmurs, guiding Nick back to the nest on their bed with a gentle hand between Nick’s shoulderblades. They snuggle carefully into the sheets, food in hand, and eat in comfortable silence. Nick can’t help but notice their states - Tim is fully dressed in an oversized t-shirt and soft, comfy shorts. As for Nick, he’s basically naked, in only boxers. The blankets that were on his shoulders… where did they go? Did Nick miss something? He shivers and nestles himself deeper in the heap of blankets that make up their nest, hoping he doesn’t actually look near as stupid as he feels, eating soup in bed with barely any clothes on. Maybe he should put on his pants again, or at least a shirt if he can stand it. But the nest is nice. What if he gets hurt if he leaves? It’s a stupid thought, but what if he falls down or spills his soup or…? He must look terribly cold because, with a quiet hum, Tim pulls a blanket over Nick’s legs and casts another over Nick’s shoulders, then resumes eating. Having the warmth and scent and safety of the nest around him even more closely should help keep Nick calm: the key word being ‘should’.

Nick lets out a tiny, half-crazed laugh and tries and fails to eat his soup. Drops of the broth fall off his quivering spoon, back into the bowl. Why can’t he just act normal? Tim is fine, why can’t he be fine? His hands are shaking so much. Why are his hands shaking? It’s not like he’s had caffeine, and he knows he’s eaten recently enough that he’s not about to faint; his medicines are all slow-release and he’s been taking them regularly and, unless Tim forgot to remind him yesterday, he hasn’t missed a day of meds in months; the suppressants should long be out of his system by now; really, there’s nothing that should be wrong but his hands are still shaky and he’s gonna spill soup everywhere if he doesn’t stop soon and wait-

“Nick?” Tim asks, though the word gets caught in a soothing purr in his throat and he trills it softly as he touches Nick’s shoulder. “Are you feeling okay?”

Quietly, Nick mumbles a random sound. There’s still so much else on his mind… Surely Tim must think he’s going crazy, anyway, shaking like this and acting like this.

Before he knows it, his soup is no longer in his hands. A pair of arms delicately encircle him and a cuddly warmth curls up at his side. Weakly, Nick lets himself relax into the arms and the blankets, losing his thoughts in the process.

He snaps to attention when the scent of ginger smacks him. It isn’t random - ginger is just one of the many notes in Tim’s scent - but Nick seems to notice it all at once, and it nearly threatens to overwhelm him. Next to him, Tim also startles, probably because Nick starts breathing heavily. Why can’t he just shut up and act normal? He’s even messing with Tim, now... “Fuck, sorry, I-I-” Nick stammers, “I don’t know what happened, I think I just zoned out, holy fuck, sorry, what just…”

“ ‘s okay,” Tim murmurs, petting Nick’s ears and hair tenderly, with care that Nick does not deserve. His arms remain solidly around Nick despite Nick’s feeble, insincere attempts to nudge them away.

“Wait, fuck, I didn’t spill the soup, did I? Shit, I’m so sorry, where did it- is it gone? Wait, did I eat it or what…”

“ ‘s okay,” Tim murmurs again, “I put it aside, your hands were shaky-”

“I didn’t spill any, did I? Did I spill anywhere? That would be so hard to clean…” Frantically, yet seeming as though he’s not quite in control of himself, Nick begins to rearrange blankets, looking for a spot that may or may not be there. Something warm restrains him, though, and he looks up at Tim, still blathering- “Sorry, am I making a fuss? I’m just a wreck when I’m like this, huh. Real colossal fuck-up lately, first the suppressants and then getting angry at Selfmade and now I spilled soup on your bed and the blankets. What a mess, honestly… I’m just really fucking stupid sometimes-”

Somewhere within Nick’s monologue, a finger touches his lips as if to shush him, though it certainly doesn’t work. He keeps talking like there’s nothing there, prattling nonsense to the point that even he doesn’t quite know what he’s saying, ears flicking and tail twitching in agitation, until Tim cups his cheek and presses their noses together. “Hush,” he says, pressing down ever so gently on Nick’s lips with his thumbs.

But Nick’s brain just won’t stop spewing words about how stupid he is, how useless and hopeless and dumb he is, how horrible he is, how toxic and unloveable he is, how sorry he is.

And then Tim’s face is even closer, and a soft pressure shuts Nick up for real, this time.

It kind of tastes like salmon.

Unconsciously, his eyelids flutter shut and his jittery, worried hands settle into his lap. His ears prick up and his tail sways from side to side as he feels purrs bubble up from the depths of his throat like laughter, answered by Tim’s purrs. All too soon, the sensation is over, and Nick opens his eyes as the pressure is released. He makes a tiny, questioning mew - he hasn’t mewed in at least a decade, probably. Tim giggles.

“Finally figured out where your off-switch is, I guess.”

“Sh-shut up,” Nick stutters. He blushes and pouts at Tim, who awkwardly takes his hand off Nick’s cheek and also blushes, fidgeting with the blanket around Nick’s shoulders. Nick hugs his knees to his chest for comfort, then gasps softly as Tim reaches around him. The other omega's near-embrace feels so loving and gentle, the scent-gland on Tim’s neck inching closer and closer to Nick’s lips - ah, but Tim just tucks the blanket around Nick’s curled-up form.

“Do you feel better now?” His hands pat the top of Nick’s head gently.

Silently, Nick nods.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself, especially not during heat, okay?” Tim says quietly, ruffling Nick’s hair as he speaks. “No one will hurt you here. I’ll keep you safe.”

“Y-y-yeah,” Nick trails off. “I know that, I just… Stupid, I guess,” he murmurs, chuckling at himself with dark anger in his eyes. “Too fucking stupid and pathet-  _ mmmph…” _

Again, Tim’s lips land on his. “Stop talking about yourself like that,” he grumbles, each word slipped in between breathless kisses that make Nick’s throat rumble. They kiss chastely and intensely until their lips redden and their faces flush pink with love and embarrassment and shyness and lack of oxygen. With each second that passes, Nick’s purrs grow stronger and stronger, as do Tim’s purrs and his surprisingly steady yet gentle grip on Nick’s hand. “Should I keep distracting you?” he asks after Nick’s eyelashes droop. He feels like he’s in a new haze - soft and sweet.

Noncommittally, Nick sighs. “I think I’m a bit too distracted right now… ‘s hard to focus,” he admits.

“Are you stressed? Or sleepy?”

An empty chuckle. “Probably both,” Nick murmurs, noting that he can barely even keep his eyes in focus for more than a few seconds. It feels as though all his energy has been sapped, leaving him woozy. He almost doesn’t notice Tim hugging him close and guiding his head to rest on Tim’s shoulder.

“Try scenting me, maybe?” Tim suggests. 

Before his words even process in Nick’s head, Nick has already nestled his face against Tim’s neck, following his instincts, snuggling close to the nutmeg-cinnamon-sweet smell and soothing omega pheromones. The scent is warm, like a hug, like Tim’s arm around his waist and Tim’s hand cupping his cheek, like Tim’s lips on his forehead and Tim’s soft breaths in his hair and Tim’s blankets tucked all around him and Tim’s legs curled up under his own.

As Nick falls back asleep, he feels rather than hears Tim begin to purr again.

The gentle vibration only pushes him further into spice-scented dreams.

When Nick wakes up, it is, again, due to his hunger. He yawns and stretches, wondering what there is to eat in the bags of snacks in the corner of their little room. Before he even opens his eyes fully, though, he feels something soft brush against his forehead; when he looks up, there Tim is, blushing a bit. Only once he retreats his hand from Nick’s hair and settles it back on Nick’s waist does Nick notice the missing sensation of having his hair played with.

“Sorry, did I wake you up? Didn’t mean to.” Tim sits up a bit more, since they had both slouched further down the bed as Nick slept, and tugs Nick into his arms again.

Sleepily, Nick smiles, yawns, and stretches again, then snuggles into Tim’s arms. “No, I got hungry… how long was I asleep for?” It didn’t feel that long, but then again, who knows how time passes in the murky waters of heat and sleepiness.

“A few hours,” Tim says.

Hours?! No wonder he feels like he’s starving after yesterday’s heat and barely eating today. While Nick is pondering the slippery nature of time, Tim hands him his soup again and a thick slice of chewy bread to soak up the nutritious broth. Nick quickly sets aside his philosophical musings in favor of scarfing down some food. It’s gone cold, and the bread is a bit hard from having its freshness sapped by time, but that doesn’t matter at all - Nick is so incredibly hungry. He only sits up and eats in a more dignified way than shovelling food into his mouth after he catches Tim watching him, a tiny smile on his face. “S-sorry,” Nick stutters, trying to restrain himself and not seem nearly so grossly ravenous.

But “Oh,” Tim says, “I don’t mind.” He puts a hand on Nick’s back while he reaches for his own food. Against his wishes, Nick’s throat starts to purr at just the touch. He’s so disgustingly weak right now, it’s painful - emotionally, that is. The physical pain of taking suppressants will surely kick in tomorrow.

Tim retreats his hand so as to eat without making a mess. It looks like most of the chicken and vegetables in Tim’s take-out box has been eaten already, at some point during one of Nick’s earlier space-out episodes. Nick, on the other hand, still has an entire bowl of soup to finish off. He’s grudgingly grateful to Oskar and Jus for bringing them food.

Silence reigns as they both finish off their meals, one much quicker than the other. As they eat, Nick finds himself leaning on Tim’s shoulder, drawn closer by some indescribable attraction to Tim’s welcoming warmth. It’s so warm and so comfortable that once his soup is finished and his hunger is sated and the rubbish has been taken care of, Nick’s eyes slowly droop shut.

He leans into Tim’s arms, which easily catch him and carry him right back to sleep.

When Nick wakes for probably the third or fourth time that day - he’s lost count, to be honest - it is finally because he’s just not tired anymore. Slowly, he arches his back and stretches, his legs feeling restless from having lain in bed for a whole day, now. He adjusts himself slightly in Tim’s embrace so he can face the ceiling and watch the afternoon light stream in through the window. Quietly, he sighs. It’s so comfortable here, in their nest, with Tim’s arms around his waist and Tim’s fluffy hair brushing his cheek. He carefully reaches around Tim to play with the blonde-brown mess, gently smoothing it out and then fluffing it back up around Tim’s grey tabby ears, soft-furred and cute.

Eventually, Tim wakes up and stretches away, swinging his tail to the side and untangling his legs from Nick’s. It feels like one of those times when they don’t need words, though, and Tim doesn’t question Nick’s staring at the ceiling - he just nestles himself a bit closer to Nick and lays back down, his knees bent and his tail curled around his legs. Nick takes a similar pose and leans their knees against each other. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Tim smile, and then they both accept the silence with open arms, counting imperfections on the ceiling and basking in the sunlight.

“Well, you… kissed me,” Nick murmurs after a long, slow, silent while, with nothing but the whirr of Tim’s computer in the other room to disrupt them.

“Mmmyeah,” Tim hums. Nick can tell he’s trying to be more nonchalant than he feels - or at least, he hopes so. If Tim is seriously so calm, so unaffected in the face of this… well. Nick’s heart won’t be broken, per se, probably just severely fractured and requiring stitching. Hopefully Max won’t mind.

“So…”

“Mhm?”

“Does that, like…” Ugh, he sounds so awkward. “Does that mean anything? Or…”

“Only if you want it to,” Tim murmurs, his eyes opening up to affix Nick with a soft, warm, gentle, yet unsettling grey stare.

Nick stares back, almost stunned. And then he starts to giggle. “I hate you,” he says through his laughter as he knocks his head against Tim’s, rubbing their ears together in an obvious unspoken sign of affection, purring before he can stop himself.

Joyously, Tim giggles and purrs alongside him. “Hate you, too,” he says with an adorable smile that Nick nuzzles closer to. Tim laughs as he gets a mouthful of fur and fuzz - when he sneezes, Nick giggles and pulls back to look at Tim.

“Hug me,” Nick demands, leaning up so Tim has the space to wrap his arms around Nick’s waist, and Tim shakes away his sneezing fit and does. Nick could really get used to this. The sunlight through the window is warm and golden-orange, afternoon bleeding into evening. He purrs shortly and leans into Tim. “Hey, what was that, even? You’re Iron IV at kissing,” Nick teases, nudging Tim’s side. It’s cute, how inexperienced Tim seems to be. He’d nearly bruised Nick’s lips before, not like it would matter when both of them are housebound by Nick’s heat for the next few days anyway.

“Actually,” Tim explains, snuggling closer, “only ever kissed Miky at a LAN before this.”

Nick grins, unable to stop himself from cracking a joke. “So what you’re telling me is you need kissing coaching?” he asks, quite looking forward to teaching Tim everything he needs to know about kissing and making out and fucking without heat-pheromones to guide every move.

“I mean- if you’re offering.” And isn’t Tim’s blush just so cute? Nick grins even wider, nuzzling Tim’s cheek and gently running thin fingers over a bony arm.

“I’m offering,” Nick says softly, seductively, hopefully. “Are you accepting?”

Tim giggles sweetly, somehow turning even redder, and cinches his arms around Nick’s waist. “Yes, I’m accepting.”

They smile at each other. This time, Nick makes the move, choreographing it carefully so Tim can’t possibly misinterpret his intentions. Surely Tim is smart enough to recognise Nick’s glance, hopping between his eyes and his lips, and lo and behold he picks up on the hint and leans in ever so slowly. Infuriatingly slowly, in fact - Nick helpfully speeds things up, and soon they’re tangled together like two cats in love, a mess of scrawny, pale limbs and bony joints. Nick slips in the slightest bit of tongue, much to Tim’s apparent surprise. He gasps and freezes, so Nick pulls back and lets him acclimate bit by bit.

“So I’m your second kiss?” Nick murmurs against Tim’s cheek after giving the younger boy a few minutes to calm his nerves. 

“Wh-when you put it like that, yeah.”

That’s… weird. Certainly not bad - inexperienced partners are, after all, some of the cutest. But it certainly is surprising. “You never kissed Oskar.”

“No, of course not!” Tim chirps, sounding almost appalled or disgusted. “He’s dating Jus.”

“Not even before he started dating Jus?” Nick wonders.

“No! Oskar and Jus have been exclusive since MAD Lions.”

Huh? “No way,” Nick retorts, “that long?” Maybe he didn’t have to be so on-the-offensive against the dumb dog alpha who shows up on Tim’s doorstep with his beta cat so often. Though, it probably wouldn’t hurt for Nick to keep on doing what he’s been doing.

“They’ve been together for a while.” Tim giggles. “I would say I’m surprised you didn’t know, but I guess the LS stands for Lack of Sense.” He snickers in a way that makes Nick both want to pout at him and kiss him silly.

“I mean, you only told each other you loved each other on stream, sooo…” Really, Nick isn’t salty or bitter or upset or anything - probably just a joke, right? Just friendly banter that doesn’t happen between Oskar and Jus on stream for some reason. It’s weird, though - not like Nick feels threatened by the presence of the alpha! It's just weird, especially when the joke is between an alpha and an omega. 

Tim just laughs and nudges his side. “Oskar is funny like that, don’t worry about it.” Of course Nick trusts Tim. Just maybe not Oskar.

“And the stuff you said about him crying during sex?” Nick recalls, remembering that stupid little clip he’d found somewhere. Sometimes Tim’s chat are such trolls, always prodding him about Oskar. Lately, the chat have been more teasing, though, always asking Nick about having Tim as a guest on his stream or vice versa. It’s… cute.

“Also just a joke, Nick,” Tim giggles despite Nick’s pout. “I did hear that from Jus, though.” This time, instead of just nudging Nick’s side, Tim gently, affectionately pinches Nick’s cheek.

The twinge of pain makes Nick whine. “Real funny,” he grumps.

“Are you- are you jealous?”

“No, I’m not  _ jealous,” _ Nick mutters. Tim’s expression is so, so adorable, but that, alongside his jealousy, is something Nick would never admit. At least not without a little bit of a fight.

Still, “You’re so jealous!” Tim chirps with glee, absolutely delighting in Nick’s blushy anger.

“Am not!”

“Yessss, you areeeee!” By now, Tim’s laugh is so cutely squeaky that Nick just can’t stop himself from kissing the corners of that beautiful, heart-warming, room-brightening smile.

Of course, that doesn’t mean he’s surrendering. “Shut up,” Nick whines. He pats Tim’s arm, still firmly around his waist, but can’t keep himself from tracing his fingertips back over it and gently rubbing the slight sting away.

“It’s okay.” Tim only murmurs, but his voice, so close to Nick’s ear, still draws Nick’s attention like a neon light. “I’ll tell you I love you, too, If you want me to.”

“If I want you to?”

“If you want me to.” There’s a vulnerability in Tim’s eyes that Nick wants so badly to push through, with precision and gentleness and pure love.

“What makes you think I  _ wouldn’t  _ want you to?” he asks in the softest, sweetest voice he can possibly manage. Twitch chat would be astonished if they heard him now.

But Tim still shakily shrugs.

“Tim, I literally just said I wanted to kiss you,” Nick states in a rather unimpressed tone. Perhaps Tim is a bit denser than first thought.

“No, you didn’t!” Tim protests. He hides his face where Nick can’t see him, in the crook of Nick’s neck at such an angle that he can’t turn to look at what surely must be a blush.

Nick rolls his eyes fondly. “I said I wanted to teach you how to kiss me,” he says plainly, pressing his lips to Tim’s jawline.

“Noooo, you said kissing in general.” Nick can hear the pout in Tim’s voice - he has to suppress his laughter.

“With me.”

“Y-yeah.”

“What else did you think I meant by that?” He again fights the urge to laugh at the misunderstanding - Tim probably wouldn’t think it’s funny.

“I don’t know! Shut up,” Tim whines, burying his face deeper behind Nick’s shoulder and hugging Nick tightly. “ ‘m not good at this…”

Gently, Nick smiles and turns his head, nuzzling and kissing Tim’s cheek to let him know he’s not mad. “I’m only teasing,” he murmurs, “you’re doing great, babe.” Tim is so, so cute like this, so cute blushing red, so cute pouting from behind Nick’s shoulder, so cute whimpering.

“Oh noooo,” Tim whines, pulling away to cover his face with his hands and flattening his ears just the same way Nick does when he’s embarrassed.

“What?” Nick giggles. “Are pet names too embarrassing for you, kitten? Baby? Sweetheart?” Ah, but he had better not get too deep into the old-fashioned, cheesy ones, lest Nick burst into too-loud laughter and make Tim gain a permanent blush.

As for Tim, he whines again and curls up into a ball, laying half-on and half-off Nick’s lap, positioned just right for plenty of playful hugs and kisses and cuddles and a tiny bit of play-fighting. Nick giddily rolls Tim off his lap and pounces atop him, straddling his waist and arching over Tim on hands and knees. “Shut up and go away,” Tim groans, but Nick knows he’s just kidding - the tight circle Tim’s arms are making around his waist and the way Tim buries his blushing cheeks in Nick’s collarbones lets Nick know exactly how the mid-laner really feels.

He giggles, but instead of being playful and teasing, he feels so much happiness flood through his heart. The laughter welling up in his lungs is unstoppable. “Love you, idiot,” Nick murmurs with a purr, petting Tim’s hair and caressing his blushing-pink ears.

“Love you too, dumbass.”

It takes them a while to disentangle their limbs from each other and the bedsheets, so long that the setting sun glares at them when they arise, but Nick and Tim, spurred by restlessness and boredom, manage to crawl out of bed for the first time in two days after a bit more cuddling. Tim stretches, arching his back and curling his tail, happy to be free from the nest’s clutches. As for Nick, he takes two steps and panics at the loss of his balance. Terrified, his tail swings wildly in a vain attempt to right himself before his legs seem to crumple beneath him and he crashes to the ground. Luckily Tim catches his shoulders, but not before his hips slam into the hardwood flooring. Nick curses under his breath while Tim carefully lowers Nick’s torso onto Tim’s lap on the floor. “Are you okay?” Tim asks, a slight and infuriating smile on his face.

“Just peachy,” Nick grumbles. Now that he’s outside of the nest, he’s even feeling cold, too, on top of more tiny but building heat-cramps and the bruises that will surely be on his hips soon. Tim kisses his nose, though, so there’s at least one positive to this whole ordeal. “Ugh, now I’ll have bruises on top of heat and all that shit tomorrow,” he whines. Having resigned himself to laying on the floor, Nick crosses his arms over his still-bare chest, trying to conserve warmth. “And it’s fucking cold in here!”

“Well,” sighs Tim with that same awfully perfect smile, “we can fix the cold part. Can you walk if I help you, or just bring your bag here?”

“Help me walk,” Nick demands, “I wanna see your closet.” If Tim really thinks Nick will only wear his own clothing when they’re together, well, he should rethink that. Is there anything that could possibly be comfier in his future misery than Tim’s hoodies?

Tim just chuckles. “What, are my clothes better than yours?”

“Obviously.” Nick lifts up his hands in a plea for help that is swiftly answered, Tim wrapping his arms around Nick and Nick slinging his arms around Tim’s shoulders. After a slight struggle, they finally make it off the ground and come to a stop, standing in front of Tim’s shirt and sweatshirt-filled closet. They’re both breathing heavily, not quite used to the unusual physical demands of walking with another person attached. “Damn,” Nick giggles, some part of him finding their situation’s absurdity amusing, “when you said you never go to the gym you really meant it.”

“Shut up.” Tim pouts at Nick, gently setting him down on the bed, where he starts to move and flex his legs, trying to work a little strength into them. Hopefully that will remedy his inability to walk on his own at the moment. “I don’t normally have to carry my omega,” Tim adds. He pokes through his closet for a hoodie.

“Oh, your omega now?” Nick snickers with his usual sharp tongue again. He’s starting to feel a little bit more like himself and acts like it - maybe too much, though, since it doesn’t get a laugh from Tim but instead an apology.

“Sorry.” Tim murmurs, handing him a thick, soft, oversized, black Fnatic-branded hoodie, “is this okay? Not trying to like, mark you or anything. I know you don’t like that.” For a moment, Nick wonders how he knows, but then he remembers a late-night rant against one of Nick’s alpha exes. There’s a reason he only dates omegas now - the chances of being accidentally marked with a painful bite on the neck are much lower, plus omegas are way cuter and don’t have annoying ruts in reaction to his already-annoying heat. “Do you want a different one?” Tim asks about the sweatshirt. “I didn’t mean it like-”

“Tim. Honey. I’m teasing, okay?” Nick happily takes the hoodie, patting Tim’s hand along the way to soothe his worries. He puts the hoodie on and lets out a short, contented purr. The hoodie feels so nice, warm and cuddly and cinnamon-scented and big enough to make him feel cute. Carefully, he guides his ears through the ear-slots in the hood of the hoodie, twitches them happily, and swishes his tail. It’s silly to feel so comforted by this small gesture, but the hoodie feels so, so nice. “I would very much like to be your omega,” he says, reaching out to take Tim’s hand, “if you’ll be my omega, too. Is that something you would want?”

Adorably, Tim’s face melts into a little giggle. “Yes,” he says with a horribly cute smirk.

“Of course the first thing my omega does is meme on me.” But for all Nick’s wittiness, he really is so happy he can call Tim his, now, his omega to have and hug and hold, at least while he’s in Europe, and his omega to video-call and chat with and text and stream with and coach and teach and teach with and love, and he’s so happy he can say that he is Tim’s omega in return. The two giggle, their hearts light and airy, and Nick can hear Tim’s purrs - they’re so loud and so happy. Eagerly, he leans up, ears pricked forward, and Tim leans down to nuzzle their cheeks and ears against each other.

“Now give me a kiss and help me stand up,” Nick demands, emphasizing his wants by nudging Tim’s cheek with his nose, “I wanna leave the bed for a bit while I still can.”

Tim gives him a kiss to the lips that is much too quick for Nick’s liking. He pouts, but Tim pets his ears and the top of his hoodie-clad head, which Nick accepts as his consolation prize. “Would it be easier if I just got my gaming chair?” Tim asks. “It has wheels. I could just push you around.”

“No, I think I can walk,” Nick murmurs. He holds out his hands for Tim to help him stand. This time, he doesn’t fall down immediately, so things are looking good, though Nick can tell his knees and thighs are still a bit weak. Tim helps him through some shaky steps, their hands on each other’s elbows for more support. Slowly, Nick’s legs get used to walking again after he’d been fucked out of his mind thanks to his heat yesterday. “I think I’ve got the hang of it now,” he says with a grin. Even though it’s just walking, having more of his freedom back from heat is an amazing feeling. As soon as Tim lets go of his arms, though, Nick feels deeply lonely and lost. He waves his arms and sways his tail to maintain balance. Tim’s helpful hands steady him.

“Still not quite balanced?”

“No,” Nick sighs, “but you know what would help?”

“What?”

“A hand to hold.” He smirks while Tim rolls his eyes and laughs.

“Needy. Give me your hand, then,” Tim giggles. Their fingers find each other quickly and lace together. Feels so good to be connected to Tim. Maybe it’s the heat slowly getting to Nick’s head again. “Come on, I’ll make dinner.”

“You? Cooking? Sounds dangerous,” Nick teases.

They make their dinner of noodles and pre-made sauce happily, pressing kisses to each other’s cheeks intermittently the entire time.

Tim only lights a few spaghetti strands on fire.

#  Day 4.

“You okay?”

The words come as a surprise to Nick, knocking him out of what weak slumber he’d still had. Waking up certainly isn’t bad on its own - he’s in Tim’s arms, after all, and his boyfriend is hugging him so tight, so how could it possibly be bad to wake up like this? But something doesn’t quite sit right in Nick’s sleepy mind. He doesn’t know what it is just yet, but he can tell he’s getting closer to clarity.

“Huh?” Just not verbal clarity. Nick blinks sleepily up at Tim’s worried countenance. Something starts to seem very, very wrong, something about his belly and hips and thighs, something deeply upsetting within him.

“You were whimpering and crying in your sleep,” Tim explains, caressing Nick’s cheek. “Nightmare? Does something hurt? You curled up into a ball,” he points out.

Finally, Nick realises his arms are pressed against his abdomen, elbows pushing into his sides. 

Ah.

Time for the hellish after-shocks of his heat, caused by the suppressants he’d taken just to feel safer in the moment.

“Everything hurts,” Nick mutters, displeased at his sudden realisation. Tim gives him an apologetic, concerned kiss, more like a press of lips against the spot between Nick’s eyebrows, and though it’s not much, Nick feels at least emotionally better. 

“Anything you want?” Tim asks, nuzzling Nick. His hands are a bit cold, but not unwelcome, tracing each of Nick’s dainty features with tenderness. 

“I want to put a knife in the abdomen of whatever sick deity made me an omega.”

The sound of Tim’s giggles sends a tiny rush of happiness coursing through the ache in Nick’s body. “Can’t help with that one,” Tim murmurs against Nick’s forehead as he presses more kisses there, “but I’ll bring you paracetamol?”

“The fuck is that?”

“Pain-relief pill. Is that not what they’re called in English?” Carefully, Tim begins to extricate himself from Nick’s warmth and the blankets tangled around their legs. It’s not fair that Tim is leaving, but all Nick can do is whine and gasp for breath when his pain throbs and intensifies. Ugh, he forgot how much suppressants hurt...

“Not in America -  _ shit, shit, _ shit shit shit, motherfucker-” Embarrassingly, Nick can feel his eyes ache and pulse out little tears, so pitiful, so humiliating. Tim’s hand pats his shoulder, but Nick can barely make sense of anything right now, everything hurts, so much, so much...

“I’ll grab that.”

His tail curls around his legs as the rest of his body tenses with pain.

It feels like much too much time has passed by the time Tim returns, though admittedly Nick doesn’t really know much of anything between the tears dripping from his eyes and the whimpers peeling out of his throat. “Here, take this,” Tim murmurs, handing Nick two small pills and a cup of water, “and hold this against your belly,” as he gives Nick a warm, fuzzy heating pad.

“Wait- hand me the bottle,” Nick groans, managing to unfurl himself from the ball he’d rolled into, “I need to check the ingredients, I can’t take NSAIDs-  _ shi-i-i-i-itttt, fuck, fuck-” _ Weakly, he spasms and trembles, the pain in his core intensifying to unbearable heights. Saltwater works its way out of the clenched corners of his eyes until Tim holds him gently and nestles Nick’s face against his cinnamon-clove spiced scent, which at least soothes Nick’s ache while he breathes it in. It’s not a permanent solution, but omega pheromones are powerful enough to sustain him for a short while as he reads the ingredients of the medicine. “Oh, it’s fucking Tylenol. You could’ve fucking said so.”

“Take your meds,” Tim says plainly, patting Nick’s shoulder with a touch both comforting and teasing, and Nick downs the pills quickly, eager for any sort of relief.

Even once he’s taken that medicine, the pain persists. Tim tells him in hushed tones that it could take up to an hour. Nick buries his face in his hands to hide the hot tears. Gently, though, even as he keeps the world away, Tim draws him closer until Nick is curled up in his lap again and nuzzling Tim’s neck, inhaling Tim’s scent like he’s just come up from under water, and Tim rests the heating pad against Nick’s stomach to loosen the tenseness there and hopefully ease the pain of heat. Not all omegas have to deal with this, but those who do know exactly how debilitating it feels.

“Sorry I’m such a shitty omega,” Nick mumbles, once the tears have subsided and a combination of Tim’s scent and the paracetamol soothe his pain. He doesn’t hurt so much, now, but he’s still curled up in anguish on Tim’s lap, snuggling into his chest as Tim’s bony, knobbly hands try to gently knead relaxation into Nick’s tense muscles.

Tim turns and looks at him with that perplexed pout of his, seemingly unable to understand Nick. “You’re not a shitty omega. You’re mine, and you’re amazing.”

“Yeah, I’m great, just blind, needy, annoying, anxious, and depressed. No downsides at all.”

“Exactly. Blind is whatever, I guess, I don’t care,” Tim says with a kiss. “And you think you’re needy and annoying, but I think it’s cute. And it’s nice to have someone who goes through the same stuff, with the anxiety, you know?” By now, if Nick wasn’t sniffling already, he certainly is - who let Tim be so sweet and kind? They’re supposed to be silly and stupid and toxic! “Plus you’re also the funniest person I’ve met in League,” Tim continues, “smarter than any coach in the West, cuter than everyone, and toxic - which I think is hot.”

“Crownie was right,” Nick giggles between sniffles, “you really are a freak in the sheets.”

“Shut up,” Tim says with a displeased pout.

“Oh, sorry, you’re probably still a virgin,” Nick teases more.

“You do realise we had sex two days ago, right?”

“Everyone knows heat doesn’t count!” By now, Nick’s giggles are nearly drowning out his sniffles, and the ache in his stomach dwindles with each minute.

“Just go ahead and change the rules, yeah, whatever,” Tim retorts, rolling his eyes. “Well, by your rules, then, yes. I’m assuming you aren’t?”

“No. I mean, there was that one time and never again with that alpha, and then I’ve had a handful of exes so that kind of comes with the territory.” Meekly, Nick rests his chin on Tim’s shoulder, pulling away from his scent a little, just in case Tim isn’t quite so happy with Nick always needing touch and attention. “Sorry,” he mumbles. 

“Don’t be sorry. Wanna tell me what it’s like?” Tim asks with a vibrant red blush, making Nick’s own expression answer him.

“You’re not missing much. It’s not that different to heat,” Nick says with a shrug. “It’s good if you’re with someone you love. Everything just feels more real and sloppy ‘cause you’re not hopped up on heat pheromones, that’s the main difference,” Nick notes. “If you’re with an alpha, it hurts more, too, during and after.”

Tim pauses, fiddling with Nick’s body, running his fingers repetitively over Nick’s skin and stroking Nick’s tail in a way that makes Nick wonder what he’s thinking. “You should show me what I’m missing,” says Tim, just before Nick was about to ask. “Sometime. If you want. Not now,” he clarifies with an even deeper blush, “we need to get you through heat, but… some other time.”

Nick pauses in much the same way Tim had moments before. Then, laughter spills from his lips in a mixture of delirium and humour, and his tail writhes against the bedsheets with giddiness. “Damn, Tim, you’re really putting the moves on me, huh?”

“Shut uppp,” Tim whines, “what does that even mean?”

“Oh, it’s like- like you’re flirting with someone, you’re  _ really _ flirting and you’re trying to get a hookup. Putting the moves on,” Nick explains, a cheeky grin decorating his face. Something about it must be appealing to Tim - Nick gets a kiss, even for his shitty idiom and silliness.

“I mean, I guess?” Tim says. He keeps his face close to Nick’s even after their kiss, and Nick blushes - only a little bit! - at how Tim breathes deeply with their cheeks pressed together. Nick can easily smell cinnamon and sweetness and cloves, from this angle, and he blushes a shade darker at the realisation that Tim is most certainly scenting him, eagerly drinking up the smell of Nick’s scent glands and his skin. “Can I still put the moves on you if we’re dating?” Tim asks after they’ve both had their fill of the other’s scent.

“Mmm, probably not. At that point, you’re just asking for consent,” Nick murmurs, snuggling deeper into Tim’s arms.

“Mhm.”

“Jesus, I’m your soloQ coach, your kissing coach, and your life coach,” Nick jokes with a bright smile.

“Couldn’t ask for a better one,” Tim cooes with another dainty kiss.

Nick rolls his eyes and flicks his ears and rubs the tiny scent glands just below his ears against Tim’s, making them nuzzle and Tim purr sweetly.

#  Day 5.

“Hey, what do you want for breakfast?”

After what feels like an eternity, though Nick is well-aware it’s been just under a week, his heat-pain abates. The queasiness subsides and so does the weak feeling in his legs, if only for a few hours at a time. He can walk again, and he uses his newfound freedom to follow Tim around the small flat, tail waving eagerly behind him.

“I’m glad it doesn’t hurt so much,” Tim says over the first breakfast they’ve had together at a proper table in three months. 

“Me too,” Nick answers through a mouthful of microwaved pancake, eating voraciously. About halfway through their meal, though, he starts to noticeably shiver - the kitchen air is much cooler than the warm, almost too hot bedroom, and it doesn’t help that his skin is still a bit heat-addled and oversensitive. 

“Cold?” Tim asks.

“No shit, Sherlock.”

“I’ll go get you a blanket?” he offers, but Nick protests; blankets are-

“Too big. can’t move around in them.”

“An even bigger hoodie, then?”

Despite himself, Nick’s ears prick up at the suggestion. He first shrugs nonchalantly, then nods and suppresses the urge to purr just thinking about Tim’s warmth and scent surrounding him.

“Okay.” Quickly, Tim darts to their room, ears pricked attentively forward both when he leaves and when he returns with a big, Fnatic-emblazoned hoodie. It’s more than a few sizes too large. Perfect. “Put it on.”

Nick does so and is rather pleased to find that the experience is just what he had hoped, filling his senses with the other omega’s sweet-spice scent. He gulps. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” Tim mumbles through his own microwaved pancake.

From there, they curl up in bed again, watching the sunlight fall on the ceiling and the occasional movie on a crappy old laptop Tim snags from the kitchen table. It’s all Game of Thrones and Lord of the Rings for Tim - he doesn’t have The Walking Dead on his computer, and when they try to watch a show on Netflix, it buffers horribly, so Nick curls up on Tim’s lap as Tim reclines against a mound of pillows and blankets, and the computer plays the first movie in Lord of the Rings for them as it perches on Nick’s thighs. The plot is a bit much for Nick, whose mind is still clawing its way back from the fog it gets during heat.

It occupies them well enough until dinner, though. They have basic foods - more of the sandwiches Jus and Oskar had brought over, some canned tuna because Nick is having cravings, a few chocolate bars between the two of them. Slowly, the sun sinks, giving way to moonlight entering their window rather than sunny brightness.

And yet, Nick can’t fall asleep. He’s exhausted, but nothing feels right - he had laid down next to Tim, and Tim’s arms aren’t even around him, they’re on his phone, and Nick would very much like to sleep but he can’t.

Somewhere in the night, between Nick’s tossing and turning in the light of a bedside lamp, Tim gives him a look. "I'm bored,” he says, looking as though he enjoys the results of Nick’s insomnia about as much as Nick does.

Nick nearly hisses in response anyway. "And I'm grumpy and tired, nice to meet you."

Tim laughs at the sarcastic joke in the most adorable way possible - his eyes shut as he giggles, chuckling in starts and fits, a soft, sweet smile on his lips. Almost unconsciously, Nick stretches up to nuzzle Tim's cheek and rub his ears against Tim's face. "Well, hello,” Tim mumbles with a mouthful of fur. 

"Fuck off," Nick snarls, but his harshness is a facade, one that Tim easily sees through, and Tim hugs Nick to his chest, rolling onto his back so that Nick lies atop him. Just as quickly as Tim moved, them, Nick scoots down to rest his face in the dip of Tim’s neck.

“You smell like roses today,” Tim comments off-handedly.

“Isn’t scent always the same?” Nick asks with a curious, exhausted, sleepless, weary hum.

“Not for you. Some days you smell more like lemons or limes or flowers. You smell like flowers today,” he concludes as he nuzzles his face into the scent gland on Nick’s neck.

“You smell like baking spices,” Nick says in response. “Like sweet things but not so sweet.”

“Are you calling me salty?” Tim teases.

Nick just chuckles a tired chuckle.

"I'm gonna watch a video,” Tim says after a while of his fingers running through Nick’s hair and over his yellow tabby, white-tipped ears, his own ears angling towards Nick, all his attention on his omega in his arms. “Do you want to watch it with me, or should I put earbuds in?"

Nick flicks his ears reflexively as each word vibrates against the delicate, white-tufted tips. “Don’t wanna watch your fucking show,” he grumps.

“Okay,” Tim chuckles. 

He puts earbuds in with a kiss to Nick’s cheek and props up his phone on his hand and Nick’s back, keeping both arms wrapped around Nick’s slim body while Nick lies on his chest, face tucked against Tim’s neck. Nick stays there peacefully rising and sinking like a ship on the waves of Tim’s breath for a while. His ears and tail drift lazily back and forth, trying to lull himself into sleep without much success. Only when Tim’s lithe fingers brush the corners of his lips does Nick realise his grimace.

“Listen to this, it’ll help you fall asleep.”

With a hmmph and a begrudging nod, Nick lets Tim put the earbud in his ear. He is immediately greeted with the sound of his own voice and bursts into laughter. “Seriously? The LCK broadcast? I hate you,” he teases.

Tim just grins at him with a smile full of innocence and hidden toxicity, and they spend the night listening to LCK VODs and Fnatic content until they fall asleep, wrapped in each other’s arms, not even caring how late (or early?) it is. There are more important things than that.

#  Day 6.

Today, Nick has to leave. At least he’s fully recovered from his heat after the longest night of rest he’s had in ages, spent breathing against Tim’s collarbones with Tim’s own soft breaths drifting into his hair. Ah, if he’d only not taken the suppressants! Then he wouldn’t have had nearly so much pain, and the two full extra days he’d decided to stay in Berlin for could have been used on something more fun, like the trip to the zoo Nick had suggested to Tim or walking around Berlin or just playing duoQ together without insanely high ping between them, for once.

He has the morning, at least.

“When’s your flight?” Tim grumbles sleepily as Nick tries to wriggle out of bed before ten in the morning. “Stoooooop, wanna snuggle,” he whines, so sweetly that Nick really does want to stay in bed.

But, “I have to pack my things,” Nick answers, flicking Tim’s forehead and making him flinch and pout semi-angrily, his tail curling in the sheets. “Flight’s at three pm. You have to take me to the airport at two.”

With a long-suffering, playfully exaggerated sigh, Tim lets Nick’s waist go and flops his arms down onto the bed as if in defeat, while Nick rolls his eyes and smiles and packs away the few clothes he’s used over the week that are his. Pants, boxer shorts, multiple pairs of slick-soaked underwear that have dried out nastily… Well, he puts those in their own plastic bag inside his luggage, to be thoroughly washed at least three times before putting them back in his wardrobe at his apartment.

Then, he grabs toothbrush and toothpaste from the bathroom, brushes his teeth, and packs that, too, away, when he’s done.

He’s only been living with Tim for the six days of his heat so far, but still… Seeing Tim’s items without any trace of himself doesn’t feel right.

“Nick?” Tim asks.

Ah, he must have been taking too long. “Coming,” he murmurs.

“Can I keep a hoodie?” Tim asks when Nick is back in their room, warm and safe and filled with their mingled citrus-spice scents flooding the space.

Immediately, without even thinking about it, Nick nods. Is there any other answer to an omega who wants their omega’s hoodie? He finds a pastel-green hoodie, a beautiful shade he loves to wear and a hoodie he’s probably perfumed with his scent, for Tim.

Tim takes off his shirt and puts the hoodie on as soon as it trades hands to him, and his smile is the sweetest thing Nick has seen in a very long time besides Tim.

They spend altogether too long just staring at each other with love in their eyes, trying to memorise every detail to get them through the months they’ll have to be apart for. Tim’s grey tabby ears, his grey eyes shining green with the colour reflected off the hoodie, his smile, his tender touches, his love, his sweetness, the way his kisses taste, his smell of cinnamon and cardamom and cloves and just a hint of pepper, the softness of his clothes, the sharpness of his body’s angles...

“Do you know when your next heat is?” Tim asks softly, breaking Nick out of his reverie.

“Yes,” Nick says as Tim leads him by the wrist to the kitchen once more. “I have the dates on my calendar. I don’t have tickets, though.”

Tim scavenges in a random drawer full of all the little knickknacks a random drawer gets filled with, eventually wielding a red marker with glee. “What days is it?” he asks once more, marker poised at the ready.

Nick lists the most likely dates, and, one by one, Tim draws a little red heart on each day in the calendar, then puts it back on the counter where it had been before. Now, though, it’s neatly flipped open to the current month, instead of being haphazardly thrown open. After all, there’s importance in it, now, and a need to keep it safe because it will help warn them both, as well as give them so much to look forward to.

“I think we can get lunch, and then I have to go,” Nick murmurs.

“Okay. We can get fish and chips,” Tim answers, already taking Nick’s hand and leading him to his favourite food in a little shop a few blocks away, where the fish is fresh enough to normally make Nick’s tail curl from side to side with pleasure as he eats. Today, the food tastes just as good.

Somehow, there’s something more melancholic, though, than any time before.

After a little more joking and teasing while they try to figure out how to use the metro to get to the airport, they’re on their way.

Tim holds Nick’s hand in the car, while they walk to the correct terminal, as they get closer and closer to Nick’s departure, in the airport lounge area, waiting for the flight to be called.

They sit next to each other and lean their shoulders together for support.

“I’ll call you when I land, okay?” Nick says with the sweetest, softest, sappiest smile his face may ever have had the embarrassment of showing.

But Tim answers with an equally smitten grin. “Okay,” he says. “How long is your flight?”

“Umm… 14 hours, I think.”

“Okay. I’ll stay up late,” Tim promises. “You better not forget to call me!”

Nick’s flight is called. He kisses Tim once before they go, just a chaste kiss, a short, sweet little thing.

It feels like too much and not enough all at the same time.

Walking to the boarding tunnel, he turns back only once - only once, because Tim had told him not to, that it would just make it more difficult for him to go. But Nick still turns back once, just once, for one last look at Tim.

Tim’s face is smiling, and, when he notices Nick looking, he makes that stupid unimpressed expression of his, rolling his eyes and shaking his head from side to side and giving a little huff of condescension. Then, he looks Nick in the eye.

He waves goodbye.

Nick waves back.

And then he is boarding the plane, and can no longer see Tim.

As the plane takes off, a peculiar sense of longing overwhelms Nick. The flight is comfortable - he’s not an idiot, he paid the extra money for a seat that will actually let him get some sleep after his heat - but something still doesn’t seem quite right. Nick scavenges in his luggage for something to remedy that. Maybe he’s cold? He pulls a hoodie from his bag and puts it on, and-

Oh.

_ Oh. _

It’s Tim’s hoodie, and it smells like him, and it’s warm like him, and it’s soft like him, and it comforts Nick just like Tim would, and that’s when Nick realises it.

Tim is home.

And Nick can’t wait to return.

**Author's Note:**

> its yust pain Sadge
> 
> had this one sitting around for a very long time and finally finished it up! i hope you liked it <3
> 
> check out [this Google document](https://docs.google.com/document/d/1qd6l89vHBcsfqecW3Bbo6UoYFS3L59I1iE3l-Qn69YI/edit?usp=sharing) for more WIPs and to stay up to date on what fics are coming out from me in the future!


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